Fidel's Tour Diary

Last three days have been spent in the North playing with Applicants. We were meant to play in Birmingham too, but that fell through 10 hours before we had set off – perhaps that was for the best as the only thing down on the venue website for that date was comedy night, although being Applicants, I think we could have probably pulled it off.

We couldn’t afford a huge van with enough seats, so Adam and I had to take turns sitting in the boot. It didn’t have any windows so it was very dark, but Adam donated some much needed bean bags and a laptop with some films on, and it really wasn’t that bad back there. I watched about 10 episodes of Robot Chicken, but then forced myself to stop because I got scared I would start quoting it at the gig and would upset everybody.

The first date was in Holmfirth where Napoleon the IIIrd lives, so it was kind of his local pub. Holmfirth is a very picturesque place; it is in fact where they film every episode of Last of the Summer Wine. You can get a vintage coach taking you round all the sites. The local cafe too where they shoot has a diseased looking statue of Compo – I don’t know if that’s how he died, but the statue looked like his body had a genital disease, like one of the exhibits from the Wellcome Collection in London I visited recently. The collection contained anatomical life size models, many of which were carrying sexual diseases that were used both for doctors to train, and as circus entertainment at the same time. This counted as sex education back then, and was still around in Europe around the 1950’s.

Back to the gig, and the gig was tiny. Jeffrey had made friends with a younbg girl called Phoebe, and the whole side room was being covered in bunting. A great moment happened when 20 seconds into our tour and we were told off for being too loud by the next-door neighbour, and that was only the sound check! We never saw him again, but apparently he does it every time. The gig went well and the people were friendly. I think we played every song that we could have done. Lunch too was rather plush. We were cooked Guinea Foul, and a Beef Tagine thing and goats cheesed mushrooms all of a platter. It was delicious and homely. The pub, well the whole village, it seemed so ironically English, but also like nowhere else in England at the same time. I felt like we were playing in an episode of a Rick Stein program in France where he says “you can’t get this in England” instead of a gig. I toasted Keith Floyd I think, who had died the previous day. I had done that the previous day too without realizing he was dead. Perhaps Keith himself didn’t know either in his semi permanent drunken haze.

The pub stayed open until what seemed like 2 or three am, a gang of about 10 playing acoustic guitar and singing in the back. I ended up playing guitar for all right now by free with a big grin on my face because I was very drunk by now, pretending I knew the solo, although somehow I managed to jam the bass line bit. I remember the lady next to me started talking to me after that. I thought she said she was watching me play earlier, and during it all she could do was think about giving me a blowjob. She said she had been talking to her partner about it. She said it so matter of fact-ly, and I was so drunk as well, I simply assumed that I had imagined it and tried to carry on the conversation down a different path. This sort of thing didn’t really happen in last of the summer wine. Although Adam did fall over comically on the steps by where Nora Batty sweeps and threatens to hit Compo for being a dirty old man. But I don’t think that was the same thing.

Hangover, the next day smacked us all in the face like a fat stinky ass that wouldn’t quit. We loaded the van and got breakfast. The chalkboard offered a Yorkshire Breakfast. Jeff asked what that was. As quietly as the joke would permit me I said, “it’s like a normal breakfast, only louder”.

After that we hit the charity shops. Jeffrey bought a toy bear with a slightly odd expression on its face. I bought a children keyboard with animals on a train, and a usb cup warmer. Not tried that yet, sounds really dangerous! James bought a board game version of Tetris. It was weird; I just kept getting the same L block.

Later that night we went into Leeds where Fuck Buttons were playing. Had to get a train from Huddersfield, which seemed a strange place. But we’re only judging that on the grandness of its architecture and the hardness to buy any crisps for the journey from any nearby shop. Jeffrey bought some noodles form the Polski Sklep and ate them raw. Paul was appalled then tried one, then said they were nice.

I think Adam is a bit scared of Leeds, but I quite like it. We went on a pub-crawl towards the venue. The Fenton being the most notable – firstly for the drinks being £1.55 a pint, and secondly for the guy 55 year old man with a really long beard with bells woven into to them. He was already a bit frightening, but then he started moving all the tables and chairs about and we thought he was nuts. Turns out he was moving it so a band could set up there. But we left because we thought Fuck Buttons might have been better.

They were good of course. Bilge Pump were the first band, they were bloody amazing. The second band were well world music, so I headed off next door and played darts. The Brudenell is amazing like that. If you don’t like the bands you can just go and play full size snooker in the adjacent room. I reckon all venues should be like that. We met Tristan there. It was good to see him too.

The train journey back to Huddersfield was most eventful. Jeff was drunk and talking shit to anyone who would listen. Mostly she was saying “sharp as a daisy” and the end of each garbled sentence, telling everyone unfortunate to be in earshot that this new saying would catch on. We kept telling her it didn’t really mean anything, but then she just did it more. Then the locals got involved. An ex-RAF guy with gelled hair, started saying that it wasn’t a saying, then got talking about where we were going. He knew Holmfirth and had grown up there. He found it boring growing up there, but then I suppose he joined the forces and wanted to see the world. He had been busy in the world, he had an obscure Oasis lyrics tattooed onto his right forearm, then tried to sell us a 60GB iPod for £100. Not sure if the two were related. Then, and this was the best bit – he asked where James lived in Holmfirth, and he told him, and this is more or less what he said:

“Ah, you know by where you live, only just up the hill a bit from you there’s a massive house – you cant miss it,. It’s the one with the black gate. You go into the black gate and this family have a huge house and a swimming pool with big slides and everything, and the best thing is, they’re on holiday for the next 3 weeks in Greece”.

I’m not sure if he actually knew these guys. He got off the train soon after, and we went into Huddersfield for some more drink. Found a bar and did just that. Near the end, two zero crop guys were arm wrestling and shit and being so homoerotic with each other – it was like the most gayest and heterosexually hardest thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t think anybody noticed export me; everyone else seemed more interested in the Spiderman pinball. Got a taxi back to Holmfirth, James was so drunk himself he just went straight up to bed, leaving me and Paul – drunk ourselves, not knowing how to inflate the inflatable mattress. We gave it a go for about an hour, but in the end, Paul and Jeff just slept on the hard floor. They must have woke up stiff.

The next day took a good while to get going. We ate in a biker cafe, and then headed to Leeds. Paul was meant to follow James, as he didn’t know where the gig venue was, but either James was a bit fast, or Paul was a bit slow – or possibly unlucky – but I think he had to skip two red lights to keep up.

Nobody was at the venue, so we headed into Leeds again to get a drink. We walked past the hospital, and the two most curious things happened in quick succession. The first were all these fucked looking guys about 40 – one guy walked past the group of about 4, and there was a stand that lasted too long were they all looked stared at each other for far too long a period of time to be anywhere like near comfortable. I thought they were going to all have a fight, but they just kept staring at each other quizzically, but like they were also entering that guerning competition at the same time, until the silence was broken by this really really high pitch “Elliott??!”

We kind of ran laughing, and then two scally looking kids came up to me and James, “Hey, I like your hat, can I have it?”
“No I said”.
“No, not him the other one”, said the older guy slightly behind. Could have been his elder brother, could have been their Dad...
“Where did you get it from?” said the boy to James.
“TK Maxx”
“Can I have it?”
“No”

Completely bizarre behaviour, I quickly checked my pockets as we walked on.

The gig was at Joseph Well; it was huge space inside, so I was worried, but half hopeful. We started playing to literally nobody in the room, but thankfully people filtered in. We ended better than we started, and while it was messy, we got through it. The Darrien especially seems to go down really well each time. A suprise for a song we’ve only played 5 times. My throat died soon after though, and we had to drive back later that night to give the van back before 1pm in Kings Cross.

Napoleon played well, and we had drinks for the road (well mot Paul, he was driving, ha ha). But that meant we got the occasional text from Adam who’s turn it was in the back saying that he needed a wee. I was far too tired and swiftly becoming ill for all that.

Paul did incredibly well to get us home, think we got back around 4 or 5am; I would have fallen asleep at the wheel. Perhaps that’s why they call it hitting the road. And that was only 3 days.

Some pictures from the tour

We went through a brilliantly named village in Yorkshire.
















Fidel entertains an open mic crowd with some acoustic Britpop classics.
















Norah Batty's steps. Paul is miming a Batty-esque sweeping action.
















Terrifying Compo Golum.





















Check out who was playing at the Well in Leeds the night before us.

Leeds!

We're off to Holmfith now to play a show, with another show in Leeds on Friday, not sure what we'll do Thursday yet, our Birmingham date has been cancelled!

something old

digital is no fun! stick to film! look what i discovered!

from deep in the archives- EXCLUSIVE leak of a never-seen-before picture of Fidel!

I was at a loose end

so I took my labeller to the shop with me.

Too many bands... it's just the Cold War in Reverse.

Trying to book a band practice in London can be surprisingly difficult with the number of bands around. It can be argued, there are simply too many - at least when I can't get a booking. That, (along with a bacon sandwich) got me thinking about starting a band cull...

In Soviet Russia, any prospective band weren't allowed to play without having played in front of a panel of army Generals first. I think it was called the Khudsoviet - and the generals would tell you to cut your hair because it was too long, and tell you to sound more like Smokey before allowing you to go out into the public realm. Anything else was anti-revolutionary.

Seems a bit strict, but is it that much different to what we have now? Pop-idol is easily for more sinister and worse. Hell, in London you even have to have a permit before you can busk on the tube. I've heard the panel are people like Andrew Lloyd Webber, only less famous and more bitter. Its hard for me to know if he would be worse than a randy old Colonel...

People say that since the end of the Cold War the Communist countries have opened up and become more like the West, but isn't it true that in some ways the West has become more and more like the ex-Communist states? The UK probably has more CCTV than East Germany ever had. The USA have state owned bank's these days! Obama even dared to think about giving poor people some kind of healthcare?!! Being British though I can't see that as communist - just insane that all other countries don't have something similar.

Fidel.

12th September, we're playing the Fistful of Fandango Afterparty!

We're playing the Aftershow for a Fistful full of Fandango this Saturday! The line up is really strong, so if your coming, stick around after Art Brut to see us play too. It should be amazing!

http://www.nme.com/news/art-brut/46509

229 Great Portland Street, London.
You can get tickets via the link.

auto-tune.

is this what's missing in our lives?

the code to a good pop-future? albeit gratingly annoying after a couple times round the block.

most improved darts player.

i told Fidel, but here's the pictorial truth!

the night of beautiful magical darts! this was before i belligerently stumbled out of the angel, with the help of a couple of good sturdy friends.

i am now a medal-holder for the Most Improved Darts Player in the Angel!

...anyone up for a game? x

You better believe it...